Blackadder 40K: Tales from the Black Millennium
by Michael Khale
Summary: It is the 41st millennium, and there is only Blackadder.
1. Chapter 1

In the dark grimness of the far future, there is only…

"BALDRICK!"

"Yes my lord?" A filthy pile of mobile rags that might have hidden a human underneath them scampered out of a trench to prostrate itself at the feet of the Lord Blackadder, commanding officer of the 23rd Percian Light Infantry Regiment, the famous "Rowan's Raiders".

"Baldrick, you could make Nurgle himself heave and throw up out of all of his 8 stomaches if he caught a whiff of you.

Now, Sister Elizabeth of the Nuns of Battle are coming to assist us in rooting out heretical scum, so I ordered the men to clean out their trenches and prepare for inspection a full week in advance of their arrival. And yet I notice that you, Baldrick, have the apparel of a plaguebearer, and the smell of something that crawled out of Slaneesh's underpants after a long night of degradation and depravity. Have you anything to say before the Sisters come here and try to burn away the protective layer of filth and dung you have managed to accumulate on your person?"

"Oh my lord, come on now. I'm sure the turnip garden I've planted out front will brighten their spirits!" Baldrick grinned. "Who doesn't like turnips?"

"Baldrick, 'out front' is a minefield designed to blow up the heretics with great prejudice." The Lord Blackadder paused to clean his gloves, dreading the inevitable explanation.

"Yes, me lord, and while you told me to lay the mines, I found that I had dug extra holes, so I went back to the trench, got some of my turnips, and planted 'em so I'd have something nice to look at." Baldrick answered proudly.

"Good thinking, Baldrick. Why, if you planted the turnips all over the mine field, you'd probably make everyone happier."

"Cor, thank you my lord! I knew you'd come around!" Baldrick bowed in pleasure, something hard to do as he was simultaneously trying to keep in his prostrated position.

The Lord Blackadder turned to walk away. The rumble of approaching transport vehicles had reached his ears. The Order of the Blazing Roses of Painful Agony was no doubt arriving.

"Oh, and Baldrick, could you do me a favor?" He asked. There was one last thing on his mind.

"Yes my lord?" Baldrick asked eagerly, ready to please his master again.

The Lord Blackadder carefully wrapped his boot in a towel and kicked Baldrick into a puddle at the bottom of the trench.

"Try to master the art of drowning for the Sisters, will you? We could use some entertainment."


	2. Chapter 2

The Valkyrie transport ship touched down just as Lord Blackadder returned from his inspection of the front lines, with his right boot inexplicably wrapped in a large towel. Only one obstacle remained between him and the landing pad: the grim visage of authority that was the regimental Commissar.

"Emperor's peace be with you!" Commissar George saluted over the noise of the Valkerie's engines powering down. "I trust your foot is uninjured, Colonel Blackadder?"

Blackadder sighed as he vigorously shook off the towel, pretending that it was the Commissar standing in front of him.

"George, are you aware that the phrase 'Emperor's peace' refers to the euthanization of a Space Marine by an Apothecary, so that he may be relieved of his suffering and the Gene Seed returned to the Chapter? Did you instead mean something more along the lines of, say, 'The Emperor's blessings be with you'?"

"Oh, yes, something like that I suppose." The Commissar grinned boyishly. "I say, quite a switch-up, to make, eh? Don't know what I was thinking."

"Oh, I'm sure that I could tell you George, but then I'd be speechless, wouldn't I?" Blackadder sneered.

Before Commissar George had time to think about the remark, the psychic hood of a sanctioned psyker quietly appeared behind Lord Blackadder's shoulder.

"Salutations, Edmund!" The Lord Percy Percy waved at his dear childhood friend, causing his helmet to bob vigorously. "The Sisters have landed, and I'm sure they shall wish to see you right away! Seems like they're under the impression that we're taking heavy casualties, which, I must say, I found rather confusing, as the situation isn't that bad. I think it may have to do with that situation report you-"

"Percy! Baldrick needs some help getting the trenches ready for inspection. Will you please do me a favor and make sure he hasn't distracted himself by getting blown up in the turnip-mine fields or something imbecilic?" Lord Blackadder fairly shouted into the metal hood.

"We have exploding turnips now, Edmund?" Percy asked, confused. "Has Baldric been experimenting again?"

"Just GO!" Blackadder exploded, shoving the psyker away. He turned around to see the Commissar George fingering a dueling laspistol, frowning with a steadily deepening frown.

"Lord Blackadder, did you by any chance happen to file an erroneous status report in attempt to to bring in extra reinforcements?" George asked, polishing the barrel of his weapon.

"What?" Blackadder threw up his hands in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. "No! No, no no! No no no no… yes… but no! You know how Percy gets… poor chap's always been a bit off, perils of the Warp and all that. Why, just a month before you came, a Khornate got him right in the head during heavy fighting."

"Really? A chain-axe to the face, was it?" The commissar winced in sympathy, remembering his fighting with the Blood Pact during his Stormtrooper days.

"Not quite," Blackadder corrected. "An entire Khornate. The heretic stepped on a land mine and ended up landing on Percy. Shook him up rather badly, I'm afraid. He doesn't like to talk about it."

"Understandable," George agreed, finally holstering his laspistol. "Come on, the Sisters should be disembarking soon. We'll need to greet them properly, those foxy wenches."

He slapped a very relieved Lord Blackadder on the back and quickly adjusted the noble's cloak and power sword.

"You're worse than Brother-Captain Flasheart, George. Are you aware that those 'foxy wenches' are dressed in power armor, armed to the teeth with weapons that spew burny death, who have pledged their lives to the service of the Emperor, have a license to kill, and wouldn't look at you twice before flaming you for insubordination if you so much as looked down their armor for too long?" Blackadder asked pointedly.

"Nonsense, they're just playing hard to get." George laughed. "You'll never get anywhere with the ladies if you're going to let little things like that discourage you, Blackadder. Now, have at you! It's time to make a good impression!"

George tucked a command baton under his right arm and stiffly marched up to the landing pad.

"Come on, Blackadder! Wouldn't want to show up late to say hi would we? That's a way to get shot around here."


	3. Chapter 3

Lord Blackadder stood at attention by Commissar George as the Valkerie's passenger doors opened. The disembarking ramp slowly descended, followed by eight armor-clad women and the last person Blackadder would have wanted to see in his life: Captain Darling, General Melchett's personal aid.

"In the name of the Emperor, we greet you!" Sister Elizabeth saluted Lord Blackadder by making the sign of the Aquilla across her chest, which he and George promptly returned.

"Blackadder." Darling greeted tersely.

Blackadder's wide smile did not quite reach his eyes as he turned to face the Captain.

"Darling! May I say what a pleasure it is to have you here with us in person, for I found that I was liking you more and more the less I saw of you."

"Yes, it's rogering to see you now, but I believe we have a mission?" Commissar George interrupted. "Never put off killing a heretic tomorrow when it can be done today."

"Quite right," Sister Elizabeth agreed, pounding her metal fist against her bolter for emphasis. "We shall begin relieving your men immediately, Colonel Blackadder. By the grace of the Emperor, your men shall not have to hold out for much longer! Your hard-pressed warriors shall…"

The sentence was left hanging in the air as Sister Elizabeth took a moment to observe the perfectly calm and orderly base. The implciations of the peaceful surroundings were not lost on Captain Darling either.

"I say, Blackadder," Darling sniped. "This base of yours seems rather tidy for being nearly overrun by heretics."

"Overrun? Taking heavy casualties? Oh, heavens no!" Blackadder protested in mock surprise. "There must have been a communications mix-up on General Melchett's end. No, no, what we meant to say was that the heretics were taking heavy casualties, and that we were planning to overrun them! Some mistake, but you know those Munitorum bureaucrats…"

"Indeed, most regrettable," Sister Elizabeth frowned. "And damn near heretical, misallocating resources like this when there could be something else we could be killing. Off with their heads, I say! Why, when I get back, I will have much to report! There will certainly be a harshly worded fax, signed by the Abbyess herself to formally register my complaint!"

"Yes, well… I'm sure that will show them who's boss." Darling had the looks of a Tau who had just found himself in close proximity to an Ogryn. Lord Blackadder had never been happier.

"Still, as long as you chaps are here, how about we have a good go at those heretics, eh?" George cheered. "After all, you came all the way here. Might as well have some fun while at it!"

"Of course! Their taint shall not be tolerated, nay, it shall be scrubbed clean, like Aquilla and Hammer cleanses clothing, or Gothoxiclean expunges the stain of wine on carpeting. Perhaps, with His favor, we may even be as effective as Exterminatox at removing grime from hard wood flooring!" Sister Elizabeth preached, rallying the Sisters behind her.

Lord Blackadder bowed to Sister Elizabeth, the Sisters of Battle, and Captain Darling. "Of course, my ladies. If you will come this way, I shall prepare the company for the final offensive immediately."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"The sound of hoofbeats cross the glade.

Good folk, lock up your son and daughter.

The hoards of Chaos now invade,

To make our fair lives shorter.

-

Blackadder, Blackadder.

He pays danger no heed!

Blackadder, Blackadder.

The bravest man indeed!

-

Black! Armor black as coal.

Black! His medals as a colonel.

His banner darker than a mole

Who dares to test his mettle?

-

Blackadder, Blackadder.

With many cunning plan!

Blackadder, Blackadder.

For the glory of the clan!"

* * *

"I say, Baldrick, did you hear that?" Lord Percy cried as the echos of their regiment's marching song welled up from the valley behind them. "It sounds like help has arrived!"

Balrick's reply was drowned out by the sound of three heavy bolters firing over the top at a wave of charging cultists. Las fire soon began to fill the air as enemy mortar shells bombarded their location.

"And just in time too! Let's see those heretics fight now!" Percy yelled over the sound of battle. "Have at you, traitors! I'll split your heads open!"

"My… my lord, I think there may be a slight flaw in your plan," Baldrick pointed out nervously as he fixed a bayonet to his lasgun.

"Oh? And that would be?"

"The Chaos Noise Marines who have just deep striked behind us, my lord."

Percy looked behind them to see ten Chaos Space Marines armed with demonic electric guitars intercepting their reinforcements.

"Oh… my, that's not good, is it?" Percy asked, making what could perhaps be considered the understatement of the millennium.

"Certainly not, my lord," Baldrick agreed, laying down suppressive fire at the surprising number of heretics that had managed to avoid being blown up in the minefield. "But fear not, for I have a cunning plan!"

Percy was mercifully spared the details of Baldrick's plan by the arrival of several cultists, all armed with chainaxes. Balrick's lasgun was split apart as he tried to defend himself with it, while another chainaxe swung at Percy's face.

"Blood for the Blood God!" He yelled, as the chainaxe came dangerously close to Percy's face. Percy flinched as memories of the last Khornate he had fought surged through his system, only to be replaced by his psyker training. Percy immediately shot a steady stream of lightening at the heretic while simultaneously wetting his pants.

The heretic roared in pain, but remained standing even as Percy's lightening died down. Percy cringed in anticipation of the chainaxe dismembering him, but the blow never came. He suddenly came to the realization that the heretic was only upright because he had a power sword thrust through his chest.

"I can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?" Lord Blackadder asked, as he drew his power sword out of the body and proceeded to re-insert it into a fresh heretic further down in the trench.

"Nonsense, my lord," Baldrick chimed in, adding his laspistol to the fray. "You can. It's just that bad things tend to happen around us when you do."

"Edmund! Edmund! Thank the Emperor! But what are you doing here?" Percy asked, wringing his hands. "I thought you'd be out there!"

"With the Chaos Marines? No, I'll take my chances in here fighting normal people, thanks."

"Speaking of which, my lord," Baldrick added, "It seems like a second squad is joining the first. But fear not, for I have a-"

"Sod off, Baldrick," Lord Blackadder ordered, smashing the pommel of his power sword onto Baldrick's helmet. "Go 'help' somewhere else."

Lord Blackadder quickly stuck his head over the top of the trench and was greeted with the sight of eight Noise Marines and a drumset between them and the pass. One of the demonic figures struck an unholy chord in his direction, knocking Blackadder off his feet and nearly blasting him out of the trench.

"Edmund, are you alright?" Percy asked, helping his friend up. "Oh, I knew this would happen! Here we are, last of our noble lines, doomed to doom in a war far from home!"

"Not if this Blackadder has anything to say about it!" Lord Blackadder snarled. "It's time to fight fire with fire!"

"You mean with a hose, right my lord?" Baldrick asked, covering his ears in pain as a demonic concert played out behind them.

"Thank you, Baldrick; may I say that I think we're all challenged by your unique point of view." Lord Blackadder mocked. He turned his attention to Percy once again. "And Percy, you're the one who will be doing the fighting! Behold, for I have with me that which will turn the tide of this battle!"

"Handed down to me through generations of the Adder clan, entrusted to me personally by aunt and uncle Whiteadder, made with sacred iron extracted from the body piercing of a thousand dead Space Marines, blessed personally by the Bishop of Bathing Wells, I give to you the sacred relic that shall save us all!" Lord Blackadder proclaimed theatrically, drawing a long, cylindrical object from deep within his cloak and presenting it to Percy with an extravagant flourish.

Percy simply stared at the sacred relic. "Edmund… it's a microphone."

* * *

"Fight harder men! Remember, even the man who has nothing can still give his life! Even the man who has given his life can still be ablative shielding!" Commissar George encouraged, taking cover behind a pile of dead guardsmen. In front of him, Sister Elizabeth was engaging in melee combat with a Chaos Space Marine, who easily ducked beneath the stroke of her power sword and sent her flying backwards with a well place blow from his guitar.

"And now, ladies, gentlemen, and puny servants of a false emperor, WE WILL ROCK YOU! ROCK YOU!!" He cried, dropping to one knee and madly strumming his guitar. "Oh yeah, gonna ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE! LIKE A HURRICANE!"

The sonic attack nearly squeezed George's eyeballs out of his sockets. He inadvertently elbowed one corpse in the groin as he tried to steady the aim of his laspistol at the Noise Marine, only for the corpse to reflexively knee him in the face.

"Darling?" George asked, surprised. "I hope you weren't hiding amongst the dead in hopes of sitting this out and letting braver and worthier men than yourself die on the field of battle"

"Oh… no! No! Certainly not!" Darling answered, as the Commissar pointed the laspistol at him. "Just… stunned a bit! Sound went right to my head and all… I'm feeling much better now!"

Captain Darling hastily grabbed the nearest lasgun and started firing into the battle.

"That a boy, Darling! Wouldn't want to get shot by the wrong side, now would we?" George encouraged, adding in a few well placed shots of his own.

The intense conflict was briefly interrupted by a loud burst of intensely cheerful music from the trenches ahead of them. All heads turned to see a sanctioned psyker out in the open, hands trembling as they clutched a microphone.

"Um... hi?" he began nervously, as thirteen Chaos Marines locked gazes with him. The wet patch of robes between his legs was growing steadily, and he looked as if he would fling himself back into the trench if not for the power sword pointing directly at his back.

"Um… tough crowd tonight?" He asked, sweating as several Noise Marines brought their weapons to bear on him.

"We're no stranger to war," he began hastily, before they could strike their guitars. An intense pulse of sonic energy flooded the battlefield.

"You know the rules, and so do I

A full engagement's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

I just wanna tell you why I'm invading

Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Never gonna let you die

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna let Chaos loose to hurt you…"

* * *

Later historians would argue over what exactly Sanctioned Psyker Lord Percy Percy did to break the Noise Marines, but it is generally agreed upon that his horrifically off tune singing, combined with several vigorous pelvic thrusts, was the key to his success.

As for Percy, he stood dumbfound as the Chaos Marines started to writhe uncontrollably on the battlefield.

"By Slaneesh!" One cried, clawing at his helmet. "I can't unheard it! I can't unsee it!"

Another had removed his helmet and placed a bolt-pistol to his temple. "I can make it stop!" He cried joyously, pulling the trigger,

The Imperial forces stopped fighting as the Chaos Marines broke down or killed themselves one by one, until not one remained standing. The tide of the battle had been turned completely within the space of two minutes.

"Percy, close your mouth and get down from there." Blackadder scolded, as the sound of fighting died down. "You're making yourself a target."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Hallo there, Blackadder!" Commissar George greeted as he hopped down into the trenches, followed by the entire regiment. "Glad to see you again!"

"The pleasure's all yours, I'm afraid." Lord Blackadder returned, making way for the political officer and the guardsmen. "I take it the mean are ok?"

"Oh, fine, perfectly fine. Only a hundred or so killed. They barely had time to scratch us before Percy spooked them. By the way, where is he anyways? I want to shake his hand." George beamed. "That was some sonic attack; it was super effective!"

"Oh, Baldrick's helping him change into something more… comfortable," Blackadder pointed further down the trench. "Yes, perhaps you'd better congratulate him in person for doing it all without using any unregistered sacred artifacts whatsoever! There he is! Tally ho!"

He quickly pushed George aside and waved to Sister Elizabeth, who was leading the rest of the Sisters as well as a very white faced Captain Darling.

"Ah, Sister!" He addressed, eyes locking onto Darling. "Good to see that all the ladies are unharmed. Shall we begin the burnination immediately?"

* * *

"My lord, I have a question," Baldrick asked, as the regiment cautiously climbed over the deactivated minefield and advanced into enemy territory.

"By the Throne on Terra, Baldrick, if I've told you once, I've told you ten thousand times; Don't let your mind wander, for it is far too small and vulnerable to be out on its own, hopelessly adrift in the vast sea of thought." Lord Blackadder snarled, tightening his carapace armor about his form.

"Well, my lord, I was wondering, why is it that as smart and good at fighting as you are why you decided to wait for reinforcements to make the final push? It seems like we never do anything wihout lots of backup, and it really slows us down."

"Baldrick, have you ever seen what happens to people who do happen to be good at their jobs?" Blackadder asked. "I'll tell you what happens. They get the label HERO OF THE IMPERIUM branded on their foreheads and are sent into battlefields of rapidly escalating danger and intensity based on reputation alone.

Now, while that kind of lifestyle may suit a certain insufferable, glory seeking, self serving, show-offy git of a Commissar just fine, I myself prefer a more quiet life ruling from the comfort of a castle, and therefore strive to keep up the appearance of mere competence, allowing myself to not be shot by a grumpy commissar, remain unsubjugated by Chaos, xenos, and what have you, as well as currying favor with the powers that be for dutiful, if not outstanding, service."

"Ah, I see my lord." Lord Blackadder rolled his eyes as Baldrick put on his thinking expression. "You are slacking!"

"Yes, Baldrick, yes," He mocked. "You have, in your own little way, summed up the entirely of my stratagem in three simple words. Good job. Do you want a cookie?"

"Thank you, my lord, but I'd much prefer a turnip."

"Baldrick, no matter how many strange new worlds with exotic terrain and invariably dangerous inhabitants that we are deployed unto, I shall remain steadfast in my conviction that the greatest expanse of undeveloped territory in the universe lies under your helmet." Lord Blackadder rapped the protective head covering with his knuckles for emphasis.

* * *

"There is Lord. Five hundred meters up in the mountains. A temple with only one straight path up, likely heavily mined and defended. Sides too rough to maneuver through. What are your orders?" The scout stood at attention as he finished delivering the report.

Lord Blackadder motioned for the man to stand at ease before turning back to his command squad and spreading out a map over Baldrick, who was on all fours with his back serving as a makeshift table.

Sister Elizabeth looked at the map eagerly. "I say, is it time to purge the unclean now? It's getting awfully chilly up here, and a good roasting of heretics would sure warm things up!"

"… quite," Lord Blackadder agreed, as he marked down positions on the map. "Now, as you have just heard, the front, and only, route is inaccessible. However, intel reports indicate that there is a secret escape tunnel several hundred meters to the north-east, which will probably be easier to capture than the main road.

The plan is to have the bulk of the men engage in a token frontal assault, while a handpicked group of commandos, your Sisters of Battle, George, and Darling come with me to infiltrate their base from the back."

"What? How?" Darling stuttered in protest. "You can't have me there! I'm out of your jurisdiction! Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Why Darling, whatever is the matter?" Lord Blackadder asked with false sincerity. "Very well, if you wish to stay behind while we do the Emperor's work, I suppose that's your prerogative, just as it is the prerogative of Commissar George here to execute cowards."

"Hup hup hurrah!" George cheered. "Come now, man, this is war! You came along, you're part of it. Pitch in like a good lad so I'll have more ammo for the heretics."

"There's no reason for an office aid to go into combat!" Darling fairly shrieked.

"Oh, you'll have your uses, Darling. For example, the ability to think exactly like a heretic. We'll know what their plans are and be able to counter immediately." Lord Blackadder insisted.

"You've spent the last few hours going on and on about how stupid the hordes of Chaos are," Darling pointed out. "Are you being smart with me?"

"Darling, even if I was, how would you know?" Lord Blackadder asked innocently.

"Boys!" Sister Elizabeth shouted, interposing a jet of flame between the two bickering men. "If you're all quite done, can we please get the men together for the infiltration, and leave Captain Darling alone?"

"Yes, Sister," Blackadder smirked, satisfied with Darling's distress. "Come on, Balders, I think I have a job for you."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks for all the reviews. I enjoy writing this story and it's nice to see people appreciating it.

The only thing I wish I could do better is write more than dialogue,b ut I just don't have the time to novelize this, so it will probably remain mostly banter. Might get enough time during Christmas to churn out an actual chapter or two though.

We'll see.

* * *

Chapter 6

Lord Blackadder found Commissar George overseeing the heavy weapons teams setting up below the temple, cheering them on with his usual demotivational speeches.

"Commissar, if I may have a word with you," Blackadder quietly interrupted, neatly nipping the story of how the Emperor once kicked a Greater Daemon of Khorne in Khorne's Jewel's with His Most Divine and Majestic Power Boot. "I am going to temporarily transfer command of the regiment to you, with Percy as second in command."

George's mouth hung open wider than usual at the proclamation. "Blackadder! Surely you can't be serious! I didn't know you had it in you – not that you didn't of course, just that, well, it's your regiment and all!"

"Yes," Lord Blackadder acknowledged, "But I must join the infiltration team. It's… personal. You understand."

"Oh hob-nob! Course I do! You've got to give those heretics what for because they dared strike out at your planet. Yes, it is your duty, I see. Carry on, Colonel! Just tell me what do to and I will take care of things until you get back." George beamed. "Give them a good kick in the bollocks for me, will you – that is, assuming they have any left!"

He laughed heartily at the joke; Lord Blackadder smiled painfully. "Quite, Commissar. Now, you know the battle plans; just throw up enough flash and sizzle to let them know we're here and trying to force an entrance; the real work will be handled by the Sisters and us."

"Speaking of which, Blackadder," George picked up, "Might I recommend the Stormtroopers? Solid lads, every man jack of them."

"Now now, Commissar, you know as well as I that they plan on following your footsteps into the Commissarat; how could I deprive them of a chance to see you in action?" Blackadder flattered. "I have weighed the men and have decided this mission requires specialists; demolitions, to be precise. Sappers."

"Going to blow the heretics back to the Eye, eh?" George slapped him on the back. "Good show -"

"Yes, I know," Blackadder cut him off impatiently. "Right. Sorry, we're on a tight schedule, so good luck, Commissar. May you lead from the front of the lines as well as your predecessors; Emperor rest their souls."

Lord Blackadder left the front line with a lighter heart, knowing that the Commissar would be caught between the enemy's guns and their own within the hour.

* * *

"My lord," Baldric asked, breaking the monotonous silence that shrouded the mountain path. "I am honored that you chose me; am I to assume that it is due to my unparalleled skills at combat?"

"Turnip-carving more like it," snorted Lord Blackadder, as one of the scouts returned.

"All clear," the young sergeant reported. "We should be able to sneak in without a problem."

"Good work," Blackadder's eyes dipped slightly to read the sergeant's nametag, "Able. Gather your men and we'll move out."

Able saluted smartly and quickly left to round up the other four soldiers in his fireteam.

"Was it because I have dutifully protected you from all manner of deadly xenos and warp spawned abombiamations for the past few decades, my lord?" Baldric asked again, continuing his trivial pursuit.

"Baldric, your most valuable quality in the area of bodyguarding is your skill at being ablative shielding." Blackadder snapped, as he quickly contacted Sister Elizabeth. "Sister, the path is clear. We'll meet you at the escape tunnel. Blackadder out."

"Then was it as a reward for my long years of service, my lord?" Baldric asked again, with his annoyingly hopeful voice.

"Yes, Baldric, I am sending you into a suicide mission as a reward for your lifetime of servitude. Quite a fitting reward, don't you think?" Blackader answered. Baldric looked extremely pleased with himself at the answer, finally shutting up. "Serves you right for being such a bugger-all pain in the arse."

"Thank you, my lord. I shall do my best." Baldric replied with his usual air of mental vacancy.

Lord Blackadder sighed. The prospect of being captured and tortured to death by Chaos was looking more and more appealing as the war dragged on.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The escape tunnel was concealed by a shrubbery, right behind what seemed to be the largest tree in the mountains. It was a tight fit into the entrance, but the men and Sisters of Battle managed to squeeze in just the same, after liberal use of Lord Blackadder's power sword.

The rockcrete tunnel was dry and dusty, smelling of stagnation and neglect. As per usual Able and his men quickly spread out in front of Lord Blackadder and the eight Sisters, in order to better scout out the tunnel.

Though they were much lighter armored, and having undergone stealth training, the faint echos of their boots were still far too loud for Lord Blackadder's taste. He gripped his power sword nervously in apprehension, tuning out Baldric's imbecilic ramblings to Sister Elizabeth about the upcoming holiday.

"And every year, I pray to the Emperor that he see fit to send me the greatest gift of all this Emperormas; a turnip the size of a small house, so that I may eat well on the most wonderful day of the year." He concluded, drawing a visible look of relief from Sister Elizabeth.

"I'm sure the Emperor, in all his wisdom, shall reward you for your services, Gunner. But just to be on the safe side, you should pray; Might I suggest going far, far, far away from us and showing your devotion out by the shrubbery?" She suggested, fighting the urge to decapitate him with her power-file.

"An excellent idea, Sister," Lord Blackadder concurred, shoving Baldric outside. "And Baldric, once you have done that, I want you to scourge your rations for a herring, and use it to cut down the largest tree in the forest. Should build up some character, don't you think?"

Sister Elizabeth shook her head as Lord Blackadder strode back to the group. "Where did you find such a man? I must confess that I thought Ferik Jurgen was bad, but your man…"

"Warp knows. My family's been trying to shake off his for probably ten millennia or something by this point, but it seems we've been curse. I can't imagine what my ancestors did to tick off the Emperor, but by Him on Terra, it wasn't enough…" Lord Blackadder suddenly started listening to himself speaking and hastily corrected himself. "Of a punishment. I can only continue to trust in the Emperor's judgment and accept that He knows better than me what needs to be done."

"As you should, Colonel. We are all penitent sinners, and must each atone in our own way until the Emperor sees fit to forgive us." Sister Elizabeth intoned piously, putting a hand on his shoulder in support. He suddenly noticed how pretty she looked, even while wielding a gun that could blow him in half with a single shot, and wearing a suit of nigh-invincible battle armor.

"Sorry to interrupt Sister, but I believe it's time to move. Recon team reports the entrance is clear." One of the other Sisters motioned down towards the depths of the tunnel in the dim light.

"Thanks, Nursie," Sister Elizabeth called out, taking her hand off of Lord Blackadder's shoulder and moving on. "You are a good man, Lord Blackadder. May your faith protect you."

"Alright, Sisters!" She called out, to the other members of her squad. "You heard the medic. We've got some heretics to purge."

* * *

The escape tunnel lead into one of the monastery's smaller basements, a room that showed barely more use than the tunnel itself. The only thing stored in there were, as far as Corporal Able's auspex could discern, were bags upon bags of recaf – possibly of the unholy, daemonic, Chaos tainted variety.

Well, no sense in letting it go to the flames of the Adeptas, he though to himself, hefting a bag in his hands and smelling it. It was good quality bean, and soon found its way into his standard Munitorum issue looting sack.

One for me, and one for the Emperor, he decided, pilfering another as well; high quality recaf was worth its weight in anything in the Guard. The temptation to add another bag to his collection flickered for a moment – it was practically Emperormas, after all - but was put out by the arrival of the Sister's of Battle and Lord Blackadder. Able quickly raised his lasgun and began to cover the basement stairs from behind a crate as they approached.

"Able. Status report?" Lord Blackadder asked, drawing near.

"M'lord, the area is clear, but it's a maze out there." Able gestured upwards. "Might have to split up, not an idea I'm very fond of."

"Nevertheless, we can more quickly achieve our objectives that way. You engineers will open the gate and disable the defenses, we shall slaughter the blasphemers." Sister Elizabeth decided. "Sisters, form two groups. Lord Blackadder, I leave your men to you."

"Quite charitable, Sister," Lord Blackadder thanked insincerely. "Come on, men and Baldric. We need to have a talk."

Lord Blackadder made sure the Sisters were well on their way out of the basement and out of earshot before he made his next statement. "I realize that you must have questions, but I ask you to trust me. There are things going on here that I must take care of personally, and I require your co-operation. Here's the plan; Baldric and I will leave you to head deeper into the castle while you blow up the defenses."

"Alone, m'lord?" Able asked curiously. "Are you sure?"

"Wish I could take you with me, but yes. Can't tell you, but there's something I need to take care of secretly. So, you men ready your meltabombs, and when you're good and done looting this place, get on with the mission. I'll probably meet up with you later on."

Lord Blackadder flicked the activation switch on his power sword and headed up the stairs. "Hell, wish I could take the whole regiment and a couple of Baslisks with me, but well… secrets are secrets."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"My lord, as much as I enjoy being your aide, and bodyguarding you against the terrors of the universe, are you sure we can't bring more firepower with us?" Baldric asked nervously, as the pair quietly snuck around the dark undertunnels of the monastery.

"My faithful bodyguard, as much as I enjoy your company, I am afraid it must be so," Lord Blackadder replied sarcastically. "Some business has to remain secret in order to prevent those busybodies in the Inquisition from probing us mercilessly and uncomfortably."

He stopped at fork in the tunnel and pulled out a map for consultation, while Baldric covered the tunnels uneasily with his lasgun.

"Now, Balders, we will have to make our way to a small shrine located deep in the heart of this monastery. I hope it is lightly guarded, being as there's a war going on outside and an army of psychopathic battle nuns burning everything they can get their hands on on the inside. This will enable us to sneak around sneakily and, well, you'll see."

Blackadder folded up the map and started off down the left tunnel, which eventually led to a much brighter lit room, bare except for a few tables carrying bowl of some sort of liquid. There was a massive bronze door on the other end of the room, from which ominous humming and chanting could be heard. He froze, power sword at the ready.

"This is it, Balders. Follow my orders and shoot who I tell you do."

The pair quickly entered the room, swept it for enemies, and made their way to the door. It was too large to be cut with the power sword without losing the element of surprise, and had no visible means of opening from the outside. Lord Blackadder searched for a hidden switch of some sort, before being distracted by some foul oder.

"Baldric, how many times have I told you, you must go potty before we take to the battle?" Blackadder sighed, covering his nose. "This really isn't helping, you know."

"It's not supposed to," laughed a silky voice from behind them. They swung around immediately to confront the speaker. A tall, dark man in cultist robes stood behind them, with a mutant Nurglite in tow. His robes billowed ominously, despite the lack of wind in the room.

"Eodmund Blackadder. I knew you were here," Lord Blackadder snarled.

"Edmund! What a pleasant surprise." Eodmund laughed. "Say hello to my cousin, Bert."

The mutant opened one of its many mouths and gurgled. "Hi Mr. Edmund. Hi cousin S."

"Hi Bert," Baldric greeted vacuously. "How's the turnip farm?"

"A cryin' shame. The turnips died in the plague-blight, and then I was out of work, but then I got a job with Mr. Eodmund. Pay's not too great, but the health plan's pretty good. How are you?"

"Oh, still working for Mr. B here. Health plan's bad, but pay's ok. I can afford to have turnips for dinner every day now, with a side helping of dung."

Eodmund Blackadder sighed as the Baldrics continued parading their imbecility in front of him.

"He's no use, I swear. What's the point of making him a disease ridden mutant, I ask you, if he keeps offering every Imperial we run across tea and buiscuts?" Eodmund asked in frustration. "I knew I should have let a few more Khornates into this cult."

"I though that it was rather unusual for Chaos sects to get along that well," Lord Blackadder asked curiously. "Yet I see all four factions represented here."

"Yes, well you know how it goes. There is no greater evil than political correctness, and I thought a bit of affirmative action would go a long way in increasing our vileness."

Meanwhile, the Baldrics had started comparing turnip growing techniques.

"I'll shoot yours if you shoot mine," Blackadder offered to Eodmund in disgust.

"Proposition accepted." Eodmund agreed, drawing his bolt pistol and emptying the entire magazine in Baldrick's direction. Edmund quickly drew his own pistol and started blowing chunks off of the mutant, followed by a quick decapitating stroke with his power sword. He looked behind him to check on his cousin's progress, and found Baldric shaking in terror, the door behind him ridden with holes.

"You missed, my lord," Baldric squeaked, visibly shaken.

"Of course I did, imbecile!" Eodmund snarled, reloading his pistol.

"Pathetic. You couldn't hit a still target ten feet away from you? Come on, it's a bolt pistol, it doesn't even have that much recoil!" Blackadder sneered as Eodmund chambered a new round.

"The gun's barrel's worn out! I'd like to see you hit something with it!"

"Maybe I will." Blackadder lifted his bolt pistol and pulled the trigger. A fat brass casing sprang out of the weapon and landed on the floor, followed by the headless corpse of Eodmund Blackadder.

"Come on, Balders, our job's done. Let's go."

* * *

"Fight harder Sisters! Cleanse the heretics in His name!" Sister Elizabeth shouted, as a vicious melee broke out in the monastary's main hall. Flamers and boltguns met the crude autorifles and chain axes of the defenders, and the blood ran rivers as the Sisters of Battle cut through the heretical rabble.

As the paused for a moment to enjoy their victory, Sister Elizabeth _felt _something, a presence in the monastary that should not be there. It rang through her mind, an insivisible, silent siren that warned her of a new danger lurking unseen around them.

"By the Warp, that can't be good," she muttered, reloading her boltgun.

* * *

"My lord, why has the chanting stopped?" Baldric asked.


	9. Chapter 9

Lord Blackadder's heart stopped for a moment, before it came to its senses and began running about in terror. He slowly crept up to one of the holes Eodmund had made in the brass door and nervously peeked in.

Blasphemous runes and obscene rituals dominated the room, forcing him to shield his eyes to avoid the insanity inducing power of the heretical symbols.

"My lord, what are all those squiggly lines about?" Baldric asked, peeking in curiously. "I don't think I learned those in nursery school."

"What did you spend fifteen years at that place for then, if you can't even recognize the eight pointed star?" Blackadder snarled. "And look away before it blasts you mind – though I'm pretty sure you're too dense for it to have any effect on you anyways."

He turned his attention back into the room, where one of the cultists in the middle of an obscene ritual was glowing in eerie purple light, her flesh flowing and melting off her skin, merging with other cultists to form something larger, and more grotesque.

"Unholy shit!" He cursed. "They're summoning a demon! Right, we've got to get out of here afore we end up being a first rate second course. I don't know how long it'll take to devour those cultists, but it should buy us some time. Now hand me the map and let's get out of here."

"Funny you should mention that, my lord… You see… I was showing it to Bert when he asked to hold it and melted the thing…" Baldric explained cautiously.

Blackadder forced himself to count slowly from one to ten before delivering a clean uppercut to Baldric's chin.

"Typical. I should have expected this when I brought you along. Well, we're lost a hundred feet below the surface and are about to become demon bait. Any more bright ideas, Baldric?"

"If I may be so bold, my lord, I do have a cunning plan!" Baldric proposed, to Lord Blackadder's dismay. "Since they're cultists and we're not, and they're trying to kill us and vice versa, we could join and not get killed!"

"And how do you propose we do that, dunghead? Go off to the nearest recruiting office and turn in our applications? Still, I suppose we don't have much else to do, so we might as well give it a shot. Baldric, help me strip the bodies."

* * *

The Greater Daemon of Slaanesh strode out of the summoning room, accomanied by the handfull of surviving cultists.

"Good afternoon!" Eodmund Blackadder greeted, bowing so low that the hem of his cultist robes swept the floor. "How goes the evil evil of our evil evilness? Steeped in evil, I hope?"

"Good afternoon, I hope the trip was ok," Another cultist - a Nurglite, judging by the smell - bowed. "Sorry for the mess, we had some imperials break in, but we beat them off. Are you going to help us fight?"

The daemon threw back it's head and laughed. "Gladly."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"So tell me," it purred, cupping Eodmund's face with its sharp claws, "What is your name?"

"Eodmund Blackadder, O' great, evil, terrible, and beautiful one." Eodmund replied, pointing proudly at the nametag on his robes. "And your name, my lady?" He grasped her clawed hand and swiftly placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

It laughed long and hard. "Bold, very bold. Know that my true name, mortal, can only be pronounced by six simultaneously screaming mouths in an alternate dimension where there are fourteen dimensions, ten additional primary colors, and the sound frequencies are distorted so badly that they can rip asunder the very fabric of space-time itself! But, in the interest of expediency, you may call me Tam."

"Very well, O' Tam." Eodmund replied, bowing. "Now, as to the situation at hand, a few guardsmen have infiltrated this temple. We believe that they are being contained-"

An earthshaking explosion punctuated his sentence, causing him to reword the predicate.

"Or perhaps not. Anyways, the Imperials got wind of our little cult, so we'd be most grateful if you would do something to stop them from doing that to us."

"Excellent, excellent, the more the merrier, isn't that right?" It cooed, stretching it's limbs. "Just point me in the right direction, love, and the deed will be done."

"Up the tunnel, take the second right, then the first left." Eodmund directed. "The rest of us should probably stay down here and let you mop up the tunnels so we can get to the armory safely, eh?"

"You Tzneechians," it sighed at him. "Never the hands-on type."

With a feral leap, it ran through the door and out of the room, leaving Blackadder and Baldric in a room with the few cultists who were not absorbed during the ritual.

"Alright men, it's time to ready ourselves for great evil! Evilly shall we decimate the evil imperials and stuff it up their evil corpse god's evil arse!"

"Sir!" One of the cultists interrupted. "I admire your enthusiasm, but don't you think you're overdoing it? I'm pretty sure the thesaurus lists plenty of synonyms for evil and stuff, like malevolent, nefarious, wicked, and sinister."

"Alright then, less talk and more action." Blackadder nodded, drawing out his power sword and running it through the heretic. "BALDRIC, FIRE!!!"

*

"Sisters, we have breeched the wall. We are ready to begin the assault. How are you holding up?"

Able's voice came in patchy over the vox channel – perhaps it had something to do with the Sisters having moved down into the tunnel complex to clear out any remaining cultists.

"Very good, soldier. Only one casualty so far. You men take the defenses, we'll mop up the rest of this Emperor-forsaken place." Sister Elizabeth replied.

In front of her, Sisters Mable and Nursie had were covering a door, with the rest of the unit lined up against the wall, ready to sweep into the room after the breeching charge went off.

The charge went off on time, but to their surprise, the door exploded outwards – along with a massive purple demon, snarling as it filled up the hallway.

"Time to join your corpse-god!" It taunted, pouncing onto Mable and sinking it's teeth deep into her neck. Blood spurted all over Nursie, who fell back firing her flamer widely as she did so.

"Don't just stand there, kill it!" Sister Elizabeth shouted, sending bolt round after bolt round into the creature's carapace. The other sisters joined in, but no matter how much firepower they poured into the thing, they could not cause a lasting wound; the demon healed far too quickly for their weapons to be effective.

It leapt up off of Sister Mable's body and grinned wickedly at Sister Elizabeth. Knowing what would come next, Elizabeth quickly ducked the demon's pounce and rolled away from it, firing her bolter up into the demon's exposed underside. It hissed and reached a clawed hand towards her throat, nearly reaching its target before being knocked off target by a Baldric shaped projectile.

"Bold, eh Tam?" Blackadder taunted, as "Tam" snarled in frustration. It whipped it's tail around to meet him, knocking Blackadder into the wall. Baldric noticed the situation he was in and proceeded to release a defensive cloud of odor to cover his escape.

Tam swung her other paw down to trap Sister Elizabeth only to capture dirt; she had left along with Baldric and had picked up Blackadder across her back.

"Pull out!" She yelled, retreating through a doorway. "To the surface!"

Tam turned around to see the other Sisters swiftly disappearing into the tunnels too small for her to follow.

"Run, little ones, run - but you can't hide from me!" Tam yelled in frustration, blood boiling through its wounds.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"By the Emperor, my head feels like there's a company of Space Wolves partying in it," Blackadder groaned, as he gradually came to. He opened his eyes, expecting to find himself in the chaos of battle, hopefully in the arms of the beautiful Sister Elizabeth, but as far as he could tell, he was in a giant, cathedral like room bathed in golden light. He squinted as he examined his surroundings; this was definitely not the battle he had left behind.

"Yes, they tend to do that. Loveable little rascals." A man chuckled fondly from behind him. "Don't worry about the headache, it's probably the lighting. Let me dim it for you."

The glow vanished immediately, replaced by the room's natural electric lighting. Blackadder slowly turned around to face the speaker and found himself face to face with a giant clad in ornately decorated power armor that looked like something Brother-Captain Flasheart had worn once to a tastelessly gaudy Emperor's Day ball, sitting on a throne that would not have looked out of place in General Melchett's gaudily tasteless private starship.

"So, I take it you know who I am." The figure concluded, mistaking Blackadder's stupefaction at his sheer bad taste as awe due to recognition.

"Certainly, certainly," Blackadder lied, playing along. He'd seen this man before, somewhere, and just had to stall him long enough to come up with the memory.

"Hellfire and Damnation, Blackadder, if there's one thing I can't stand about you and your family, it's all the lying and duplicity! It got you into all your trouble, it's why your family had to file for bankruptcy, and it's why you're saddled with that idiotic Baldrick."

"Pardon, sir, but I don't see how is it my fault – or my family's fault – that we are served by the Baldrics – with a "c" not a "ck"." Blackadder responded defensively.

"Because, if your ancestor hadn't been such a humongous prick and joined the rest of the shamans in reincarnating themselves into being my person, instead of pretending to commit suicide, waiting until the rest were dead, and looting their bodies, I wouldn't have punished the lot of you by saddling you up with the Baldricks. With a "ck". Because I said so."

Blackadder had a very bad feeling. This man sounded far too much like Tzneech for his liking. Which probably meant he could read minds. Which probably meant he knew what Blackadder was thinking.

"Tzneech?" He roared. "Didn't they teach you anything in nursery school? I'm the _Emperor_, you fool. "

Bugger.

* * *

"Oh stop groveling. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's groveling." The Emperor thundered, growing tired of Blackadder's endless prostrations.

"Sorry, sir."

"And don't apologize! It's always 'Emperor forgive me _this_ or pardon me for _that_, or I'm not worthy'… WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW!?"

"I'm averting my eyes, sir." Blackadder mumbled, shrinking away at the Emperor's display of anger.

"Well then you'd better KNOCK IT OFF, THEN HADN'T YOU?" The Emperor shouted. "Now, where was I?"

He cleared his throat and started over.

"Lord Blackadder, how is the battle going? I hear you arrived too late to stop the Daemon from being summoned?"

"Regrettably so. I fear that it is a little beyond our abilities to deal with – unless one of the Sisters has something up their Power Armor." Blackadder replied.

"Ah, the Sisters. Well, I wouldn't put it past them to have something ready for the occasion, but just incase they don't I suggest you start fighting harder. Throwing Baldrick at Daemons isn't likely to be very effective, as his ballistic coefficient isn't quite ideal for the situation."

"Well, I was going for chemical warfare personally, but I suppose any diseases he'd give the enemy would take too long to manifest." Blackadder concluded disappointedly. "Don't suppose you have any suggestions? Not that I wish to disappoint you, but I rather think this Daemon is beyond my capabilities to handle."

"There you go slinking off again, trying to pawn the responsibility off on someone else." The Emperor sneered. "Way to go, Blackadder!"

"Well sir, it's a huge fucking demon!"

"It's a Greater Daemon of _Slaanesh_. Of course it's a huge _fucking_ demon." The Emperor waved his hand dismissively. "And the way things are going, you'd better do something or end up having your soul devoured by some manner of warp deity. Seriously, you have a sacred artifact in your hands, would it be too much trouble to use it or something?"

"I… the microphone? But I'm not a psyker, what good could I do with it?" Blackadder asked, uncertain of what the Emperor was driving at.

"Well, I would tell you, but it's time to wake up, my lord." The Emperor replied, growing fuzzy.

"What?" Blackadder opened his eyes and found himself staring into an excruciatingly familiar face.

"Time to wake up, my lord," Baldric repeated, gently shaking Lord Blackadder by the shoulder. "Come on, you've got to wake up, there's a war going on."

"DAMN YOU, BALDRICK!!!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The explosions filling the air around them prevented Blackadder from adequately strangling Balrick. Guardsmen and heretics were engaged in fierce close-quarters combat in the ground level of the temple, while the Sisters of Battle were firing at something down into the tunnels below.

"Come on, my lord, we have to fight them right now. The cultists have rallied and the daemon's going to break through." Balrick choked out as Blackadder relented his grip.

"Baldrick, I would rather play bloody knuckles with Kharn the Betrayer-"

"That doesn't sound so bad, my lord. I hear he's a hell of a guy."

"-while wearing Eodmund's Tzneechian robes, being served delicacies by a Nurglite, massaged by a Dark Eldar and receiving head from a Slaaneshian pleasure cultist all on the doorstep of the Dark Angel's fortress-monastery, with a big banner above the entire occasion proclaiming that the Dark Angels couldn't purge so much as a toilet without help from the Inquisition." Blackadder finished.

"Still, I suppose there's no where else to run to, so unless you have another one of your famous cunning plans, I suppose I'll have to pitch in." Blackadder glared at Baldrick menacingly, as if daring him to come up with his own ideas.

Reaching behind to his belt-pouch, Blackadder quickly pulled out the sacred microphone Percy had used earlier, wondering what he could possibly do with it other than sing karaoke.

As he turned the microphone on, the ground beneath him gave way, and only Baldrick's quick reflexes saved him from dropping into the tunnels.

Tam was quick to leap up out of the hole, and pounced towards Blackadder.

"You'll be the first to die," she hissed, apparently forgetting about the Sister she had eviscerated earlier.

Blackadder quickly rolled aside as her claws raked the ground and stabbed one with his power sword. He quickly took his other hand, the one with the microphone in it, and shoved it in Tam's mouth as he twisted the power sword. Her howl of pain was magnified tenfold, until every living being in the area was paralyzed by the intensity of it. Even the daemon was forced back, though she managed to close her mouth while doing so, capturing not only the microphone but several of Blackadder's fingers as well.

"Leave him alone, bitch!" Sister Elizabeth snarled, recovering quickly from the screams and planting round after round in the daemon's chest. Tam snarled and quickly swallowed the microphone before plowing through Baldrick and entering into melee with Elizabeth, who proceeded to duck and dodge all the daemon's attacks.

Though the daemon was still a much stronger opponent than anything else on the battlefield, it seemed that the sonic attack had weakened it, and its regeneration was much weaker now; for the first time since it had come out, the daemon was actually bleeding freely from its wounds.

"Eat promethium!" Nursie shouted, as she bathed the daemon in holy promethium. "Bitch!" She added, as an afterthought.

Unlike earlier, Tam's wounds were not healing; the bleeding had not stopped and the promethium had left horrible black burns across its body. Lord Blackadder would have guessed that it had something to do with the consecrated object currently in its stomach, had he not been preoccupied with more pressing matters.

"My hand! My hand!" Blackadder shouted hysterically, as he took cover behind Baldrick.

"Just a few fingers, keep fighting!" Elizabeth shouted, rolling towards them. "Its already stopped healing!"

However, just because it had stopped healing did not mean that it was weaker. Tam had finally learned enough about Elizabeth's fighting style to anticipate her roll, and finally managed to catch her by the waist, even as Baldrick shot her in the stomach again and again.

"Faith is my shield," Elizabeth choked, as the daemon squeezed and dug its claws into her armor. She raised her bolter and unloaded the last of her magazine into its face, blowing away chunks of flesh, but the blasphemous entity was still standing after, angrier than ever. It raised her high and brought her down on the ground with a sickening crunch before advancing on Blackadder.

As she reached out for him, the air was filled with a screeching sound, and from far above, a drop pod plummeted from high orbit. Before anyone could react, the pod's engines came alive, and directed it to land right on top of Tam, melting away her flesh and crushing her bones underneath it. The drop pod quickly fell apart and out leapt a dazzling figure clad in the signature power-armor of the Adeptus Astartes, and wielding a mighty chainsword that quickly found its place in Tam's neck.

"Glad you left some for me, eh?" The Space Marine laughed, removing his helmet and stepping down from the daemon corpse.. "Alright you grox fondlers, it's time to kick it up a notch, 'cause I came here primed and hungry for action!"

Brother-Captain Flasheart looked around disappointedly at the silence surrounding his announcement.

"Is, um, no one going to ask why I'm ready for action?" He asked, eyebrows drooping slightly.

"Why are you ready for action, my lord?" Baldrick asked faithfully, from beneath Flasheart's ceramite-clad foot.

"Because seeing you lot in action has made me hot!" He whooped, grabbing a dazed Sister Elizabeth off of the ground and kissing her for as long as his three lungs would allow.

"Woof, woof!" She finally managed to pant out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lord Blackadder opened the door to his office with his newly regrown fingers in a desperate attempt to escape the idiots blathering on behind him. Percy was going on and on about how great and glorious their mission was, and George was spewing some tripe regarding Lord bloody Frakheart and how such a hero had gotten the girl. With any luck, he could make it to the liquor cabinet and drink himself into a stupor before their talk infected much more of his brain. He stepped into his office and froze, eyes narrowing in hatred.

"Oi, what gives there?" George shouted, as he bumped into Blackadder's back. "Come on now, budge up like a good boy and let us get a shot at that liquor cabinet of yours!"

Blackadder calmly strode into his room and seated himself in front of his desk, glaring daggers at the man sitting in his chair, feet propped comfortably up on the office's antique oakwood desk. His new fingers stretched menacingly, partially because his body was still getting used to them, partially because he so very badly wanted to strangle the man in front of him.

"Darling, what a pleasant surprise. I could not have stood being separated from your august presence at the hospital, for I was so miserable without you. It was almost like having you here. Care to join the victory party?"

"Oh no. I mustn't keep you from your work, Blackadder." Darling replied, with an air of smug self satisfaction that usually belonged to a man with an ace up his sleeve. "General Melchett sends his regards, by the way. He seemed quite impressed with your performance, really."

"I am glad to hear it, Darling. As a loyal servant of the Emperor, nothing brings me more joy than to have done my job satisfactorily – serving on the front lines with the Emperor's finest instead of working some meaningless desk job in the safety of the rear echelons." Blackadder sneered reflexively.

"Ah yes, Blackadder, a modest man with much to be modest about." Darling returned the snub, casually fished out a small tube from his pocket and tossed it over to Blackadder for inspection.

Blackadder turned the pungently smelling object over in his hands a few times, reading aloud the product name, with an ever sinking feeling in his stomach.

"WAAAGH! ON – Apply Directly to the Fore'ead. WAAAGH! ON – Apply Directly to the Fore'ead." He translated, from the Orkish text.

Darling promptly supplied him with a short printout summarizing the situation.

"You see. Blackadder, the Orks took time off from their rampant infighting to notice that the next millennium was gaining on us and have decided to celebrate in their usual fashion, by launching a Waaagh. Tarantalus II is currently being swamped with greeskins.

Unfortunately, this batch seems to have a trick or two up their sleeves; the Warboss appears to have had his Mad Dok whip him up a special brand of 'fightin' juice' for his 'boyz'. You have the product there before you: Waaagh On, a gel that is smeared onto the 'fore'ead' in order to drive the 'boyz' into a frenzy. The local PDF is crumpling, and who else had General Melchett decided to send in to deal with the Ork rabble but the heroic Colonel Blackadder?"

Darling grinned maliciously as terror, repulsion, and anger fought for dominance of Blackadder's facial real estate.

"Oh, but there's no need to worry, you won't be in this alone. The Valhallans hate the Orks more than anyone, and have kindly offered to join forces with you. If I'm not mistaken, you'll be fighting with none other than the Valhallan 597th, alongside the Emperor's favorite Commissar."

Darling cheerfully abandoned Blackadder's office chair and waved happily as he walked through the door. "Merry Emperormas, Blackadder, and remember: The Emperor Protects!"

"Well hup-hup-hurrah! Finally, a chance to show those greenskins what for! We'll teach the Orks that no xenos may lay claim to the Emperor's domains! By the Throne, I can't wait to see Commissar Cain in action! Oh I'll have to get out my autograph book, and my camera, and my googleplex… oooh! I've just got to go blag about this on my wobsite! It's going to be so much fun!" George rambled on, as excited as a schoolchild who's teacher had been kidnapped by Dark Eldar, hastily pouring the four of them drinks.

As Baldrick took a drink over to Blackadder, he saw the most peculiar expression on the Colonel's face.

"Cheer up, my lord," Baldrick soothed, handing him a glass of amasec. "Orks may be tough, but you need fear not, for I have a cunning plan…"

"Sod off, Baldrick," Blackadder snapped, crumpling the mission report in his hand and shoving it into Baldrick's mouth.

* * *

The drums of war beat on

Throughout the 41st Millennium

No rest for Blackadder next dawn

Campaigning through the Segmentum.

Blackadder, Blackadder, off to fight the Orks!

Blackadder, Blackadder, you show that bunch of dorks!

Blackadder, Blackadder, best luck come M42!

Blackadder, Blackadder, we bid you fond adieu.


	14. Bonus Material

**Why Things Are The Way That They Are**

"Victory!" The Black Adder cried, dancing as the bodies of his fellow shamans lay dead around him. "Got what you had coming, eh Darling?"

He kicked the well dressed and recently poisoned body of Head Shaman Melchett's aide before promptly looting a fine necklace from the body.

His glee was, however, soon interrupted by a small figure in a janitorial outfit who opened the chamber doors and pushed in a crude cleaning cart.

"Bloody 'ell," he exclaimed, seeing all the dead bodies scattered around the room. "There's no way I'm cleaning up this mess! What in the name of Hammurabi were you people doing?"

The Black Adder sighed and turned around to face him. "Didn't you get the memo? We told you in advance we'd be holding a suicide ritual here so as to reincarnate our souls into one body for the preservation and guidance of the human race."

"Well if it's a suicide thingy, how come you're still alive?" The janitor pointed out, unceremoniously dumping Shaman Flasheart's corpse onto his cart.

"Because I derive great satisfaction from seeing those idiots poison themselves and die in a suitably painful manner. Plus, I figure they won't be needing their sacred relics and whatnot, so things could turn out very profitable for me." The Black Adder tugged a ring off of Darling's finger, gave him one final kick, and move on to the far more richly adorned Shamaness Elizabeth.

"Well, I must admit that is a very cunning plan. Certainly better than my job," the janitor grunted, as he added more bodies onto the cart.

"Oh, but that's not all," The Black Adder bragged. "I've set it up so that my soul reincarnates into the next available descendant of mine, such as a grandson or great-grandson, so that I may watch over my fortune as directly as possible and use the vast wealth and knowledge I obtain in order to increase my power though the ages!"

"I wasn't aware that one could retain memory of past lives reliably."

"Details, details," The Black Adder dismissed contemptuously. "You're looking at the man who convinced an entire generation of shamans – each one of which he loathed on a personal level – to commit suicide in order to do something as ridiculous as coalesce into one soul after death in order to safeguard humanity from the powers of Chaos. I'm sure that retaining my sense of individuality and consciousness after death won't be an issue."

"Well, best of luck to you then. If you don't mind, it looks like I have a very long day ahead of me, so if you could finish your looting and move on?"

"To hell with your job, how about you quit the blasted thing and come with me. I could always use another minion," The Black Adder offered. "What's your name, my good man?"

"Baldrick, my lord, and it would be an honor to serve," Baldrick knelt and bowed his head.

"Very well, Baldrick, come with me and join me on the path to glory. I'm sure that this will be the beginning of a beautiful partnership."


End file.
